


The Safety of Your Embrace

by waroftheposes



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kid Fic, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3451241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waroftheposes/pseuds/waroftheposes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yevgeny's parents have been missing for an entire day. His aunts and uncles keep dodging his questions and he has to actually share a room with one of his uncles. The worst part is, no one wants to explain to him why any of it is happening. </p><p>Yevgeny thinks he might actually explode from the nerves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Safety of Your Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with the idea for this fic before season 5 started. Then, when I read the season 5 spoilers, I wasn't sure whether I wanted to continue the story, but after the last episode and the way Ian felt about baby Yevgeny, I thought I needed to finish it. 
> 
> This fic was really difficult to write, mostly because I wanted to portray the disorder as best as I could, but also do all the characters justice. I hope I managed that a bit at least.
> 
> A big thanks to my [beta](http://wizzardblizzard.tumblr.com), who keeps reading my fics and helping me out, despite not being in any of the same fandoms. I have no idea what I would do without her.

Yevgeny Milkovich was four years old when he first fully considered the world around him. One minute, he was walking up a couple of stairs, careless, holding onto his dad’s hand, and the next he didn’t know where he was, who he was, or what had happened to him. He knew the people that mattered, his father, his mother, the people that he would later name as family, but at four years old, Yevgeny became self-aware for the first time, and he was terrified.

He lied in bed with his eyes closed, trying to remember what had happened before that moment. He was supposed to be asleep. His dad had read him a bedtime story, kissed his head, and said goodnight to him. Yevgeny knew that he should be asleep, but he couldn’t figure out how he knew, and the more he thought about it, the less he understood how he knew it. Yevgeny had known where he was, but he couldn’t understand how he knew.

He opened his eyes and sat up, looking around in the darkness at the bars on the side of his bed and the halfway shut door. He went through the list of people he wanted, not his mother—although she would hold him and soothe him—but Yevgeny knew he didn’t have access to her today. Not his father, because he was really bad at being nice and comforting when Yevgeny was sad or hurt. He knew who he wanted, so he climbed the bars that were meant to keep him from falling out of bed and quickly snuck out of his own room.

The hallway was dimly lit and he crossed it to find the other bedroom empty. No one in the bed, no one in the bathroom. For a minute, panic set in, the unimaginable fear of being alone, ofhaving no protection, made his body shake. His parents had left him in the house alone. He could feel the tears falling down his cheeks as he turned to run into the living room, and then he heard his father’s voice.

“…and she said you hadn’t gone for the whole week, Ian, an entire week with no therapy!” His father was saying, his voice sounded unhappy. 

“I was busy,” came the response in the voice that Yevgeny wanted to hear. “I’ll go this week.”

“You’ll go this—” his father interrupted himself with a long sigh. “This isn’t a joke, Gallagher, you need to go _every week_.”

Yevgeny followed the voices, already feeling less afraid. 

“I know, I know.” 

“Have you been talking to her otherwise?” his father asked, voice getting louder. Then, “Jesus Christ, you know, _you know,_ you need to do this right? What the fuck happened? Do we need to take you to the pills doctor this soon?”

There was more silence as Yevgeny walked into the living room and two pairs of surprised eyes turned towards him. 

“The fuck are you doing up, kid?” his father said, but Yevgeny ignored him, trying to walk around him, because really, the man rarely gave hugs. 

“Yevgeny, did you have a nightmare?” said his dad, standing up and walking towards him, but his father stepped between them, blocking Yevgeny’s view.

“You sure you should be around the kid right now?” his father said quietly, and Yevgeny began to panic again in the way that felt like life or death. At that moment he felt certain that if he could not get to his dad, something really bad would happen to him.

He opened his mouth, and with a cry of “Daddy,” started wailing.

The result was instantaneous. The two adults turned to look at him with wide eyes, but the surprise lasted for only a moment. Immediately, his dad pushed past Yevgeny’s father and knelt in front of Yevgeny. He opened his arms and Yevgeny walked into them. He felt them close around him and finally felt safe. 

“It’s alright, baby,” he heard his dad whisper to him. “Everything’s alright, I’m right here.”

“He’s four years old,” Yevgeny’s father said, sounding annoyed. “Why the fuck is he crying like a baby?”

Yevgeny closed his eyes as his dad picking him up. He rested his head on his dad’s shoulder and stopped his wailing, now that he knew nothing would keep him from his safe place anymore.

“He probably had a bad dream,” Dad said, stroking Yevgeny’s head, which wasn’t true, but Yevgeny wasn’t complaining. “And then someone scared him by not letting him come to me.” 

Yevgeny’s head felt heavy, sleep already beginning to descend once he found his dad’s safe embrace. He could make out his parents’ conversation, even with his eyes closed and his mind wandering. He heard them well, though he understood little.

“Yea well if you went to therapy like you were supposed to,” his father was saying in that annoyed voice, “I wouldn’t have had to do shit like that.”

“Mickey,” the response came, just as annoyed. 

“No, Ian. No excuses. You go to therapy or the kid goes back to his mother.”

Yevgeny felt dad’s arms tighten around him. “Mickey…” dad was saying.

“Non-negotiable,” he heard his father say, and if it weren’t for the two of them still talking, Yevgeny would be sleep. “You’re welcome to ignore your own fucking safety if you want to, but do you want the kid to be in danger again?”

“That’s low,” Dad said after a while, then he sighed. “It won’t happen again, I’ll go this week. You can call in the middle of the session and check.”

A sigh of relief, a new hand on Yevgeny’s head, and the sound of a kiss. 

“Daddy huh?” his father said, sounding less annoyed. “When did that happen.”

Dad shrugged. “Dunno, I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

Yevgeny heard his father snort. “Alright there, father-of-the-year, wipe that smirk off your face and take the kid to his room,” his father said, then “Hey, put him to bed and come back. I want to know why you stopped seeing the therapist.”

“Ok,” Dad said, kissed Yevgeny’s head, and began walking. Yevgeny was asleep before they reached his bedroom.

—

Yevgeny gripped the piece of paper tightly in his hands as he walked out the school doors. He held his head high, refusing to let himself be defeated by a teacher’s scolding. Who knew that the word “shit” was illegal or something for an eight year old? He heard Mickey use the word all the time. 

Whatever, at least no one had called his parents. 

Once outside, he scanned the crowd for his dad, but found no sign of the familiar red head. On a second scan, he did find a familiar red head, but it wasn’t his dad’s. 

“Hey there, Gen,” Aunt Debbie said as Yevgeny approached her. “Do I get a hug?”

“Don’t call me that,” he responded, but hugged her dutifully. “Where’s Dad?”

Aunt Debbie looked instantly uncomfortable. She wasn’t very good at not showing emotions, and when she told Yevgeny that his dad was busy today, Yevgeny didn’t believe her.

“Where’s Mickey?” Yevgeny asked, instead of calling her out on the lie. 

Aunt Debbie took his hand and they started walking. “Why do you call your father by his first name?” she asked, instead of answering Yevgeny’s question.

“If Dad’s busy, Mickey usually takes an hour off work and picks me up,” Yevgeny said, doing the same thing she was. “But he’s not here either, and that’s weird.”

Aunt Debbie sighed. “You gonna answer me, Gen?”

Yevgeny looked up at her. “You gonna answer me?” 

Aunt Debbie looked away. “Something came up, alright?” Her tone of voice left no room for argument.

They walked together in silence for a while.

“So, Mickey?” Aunt Debbie said finally, breaking the silence.

“If I called them both ‘Dad’, it would be confusing,” Yevgeny shrugged. “And Mickey said that the first time I called Dad ‘Dad,’ it made him super happy, so I should keep calling him ‘Dad’ and call Mickey by his first name.”

Aunt Debbie smiled. “That’s super sweet of him.”

“Yea, Mickey’s a ball of sunshine,” Yevgeny replied. “So where are they?”

“Busy,” Aunt Debbie said firmly. “What’s in your hand?” she asked, noticing the the paper in his hand for the first time.

“It’s for parents,” he said, trying to put it behind his back. “Not for extended family.”

“Let me see it,” she said, but he hid it behind his back and she gave up trying to reach for it.

“They’re for Dad’s eyes only,” he said, and noticed how Aunt Debbie didn’t meet his gaze when she nodded. “Mickey can see it too though.”

She smiled at him and they walked on in silence.

“Are we going home?” Yevgeny asked when they walked past the street that would take them to his house.

“No, we’re going to my house,” she saids. “You’re gonna stay with us until your parents come and pick you up, ok?”

Yevgeny considered that for a bit. Both of his parents gone without a word, his aunt dodging all his questions, and now, they weren’t even going home. 

“Is Frank gonna be there?” He asked instead of freaking out.

“No,” his aunt replied, laughing. “But Carl and Liam will be.”

Yevgeny nodded. “Fiona?” 

Debbie shook her head. “She has stuff to do.”

“What kind of stuff?” Yevgeny asked, swinging their hands.

Aunt Debbie looked at him sideways.

“Do you always ask this many questions?” She asked, exasperated. 

Yevgeny nodded. “Dad says it’s a sign of a bright mind.” 

Aunt Debbie actually laughed. “Of course he does.”

The Gallagher house was empty when they reached it. But as the evening wore on, different relatives poured in. Liam first, then Carl, who insisted that Yevgeny call him “Uncle Carl.” As aunt Debbie made dinner, Yevgeny waited for aunt Fiona to come home as well. The night wore on however, and Fiona never came home. Surprisingly though, Uncle Lip showed up to the Gallagher house that night, looking a bit frazzled. He took aunt Debbie and Carl aside and whispered to them while Yevgeny sat with Liam and played video games. 

There was no sign of Aunt Fiona by the time Yevgeny got ready for bed. No sign of his parents either, but he’d found out that asking Aunt Debbie about them wasn’t going to lead to anything. Instead, he resigned himself to getting ready for bed, and let Debbie tuck him in.

She kissed his forehead, just like dad liked to, and Yevgeny finally broke. “Aunt Debbie, I need to see Dad,” he said, voice small.

Aunt Debbie looked sad, but she composed herself quickly. “Why?”

“He needs to sign that paper or else I’ll get detention,” Yevgeny sighed. “He’ll probably scold me, but he’s the one that always signs things like that.”

Aunt Debbie ran a hand through Yevgeny’s hair. “I’ll try to call Mickey, how about that?”

Yevgeny nodded. He fell asleep a lot faster than he imagined he would.

In the morning, he woke up to find Mickey sitting at the foot of his bed. He scrambled up and gave him a hug. Mickey, in a surprising turn of events, didn’t even grumble. He hugged Yevgeny back tightly, tighter than usual, and kissed his head before releasing him.

He didn’t answer Yevgeny’s question about where Dad was, but he made Yevgeny breakfast in the Gallagher house.

After breakfast, they sat together. Mickey signed Yevgeny’s form, but told him that he wasn’t going to school that day anyways. 

“Why?” Yevgeny asked, confused.

“Just want to make sure you’re around,” Mickey responded and patted Yevgeny’s back.

“Where’s Dad?" Yevgeny’s asked after a while, for what felt like the thousandth time. 

Mickey ignored him, which wasn’t surprising at all. Mickey didn’t even look like he was listening. He was looking slightly away from Yevgeny, fazed out. Yevgeny sighed and was about to restate his question when Mickey suddenly slapped his palms against his thighs and stood up.

“Alright, kid,” he said extending a hand and pulling Yevgeny up. “Go get dressed.”

Yevgeny frowned at him. “Why?” he asked, pulling his hand out of Mickey’s.

Mickey grimaced. “We’re gonna go see your mother.”

—

“But you haven’t even told me why we’re going to see Mom. It’s not summer, or a holiday,” Yevgeny said, kicking the back of Mickey’s seat. “And you haven’t told me where Dad is.”

Mickey didn’t even glance at him from the rearview mirror. “What are you complaining for, you’re not happy to go see your mother?”

“I would be happier if you told me _why_ we’re going to see her in the middle of October,” Yevgeny replied angrily.

“I just gotta talk to your mom about something alright?” Mickey said after a bit of silence. “I need her help.”

“With what?” Yevgeny asked quickly.

“With something.” 

“What kind of something?” Yevgeny didn’t want to let the topic go so easily now that Mickey was actually indulging him. Unfortunately for him however, it seemed like Mickey’s one piece of information was a fluke.

“Do you always ask this many questions?” Mickey asked, exasperation clear in his voice.

“Yes.”

Mickey stopped at a red light and turned slightly to look at Yevgeny. “Listen kid, it’s adult stuff ok? You won’t understand.”

Yevgeny didn’t respond. He didn’t believe in the whole idea of some things being too complicated for kids to understand. But Mickey looked like he had his mind set, and when he set his mind on something, no one could persuade him away from it. Sometimes, not even Dad. So Yevgeny folded his arms in front of his chest and pouted until they reached his mother’s house. Mickey parked the car and even opened the door for Yevgeny to get out, which made him pout less. He didn’t completely stop pouting though, wanting Mickey to see how annoyed he still was.

They knocked on the door for what felt like forever before someone came to open it. It wasn’t Yevgeny’s mom, it was some other woman he had never met before. Which was odd and a little bit concerning, but Mickey didn’t seem to care.

“Hey, Svetlana in?” he asked the woman, trying to look behind her and inside the house.

“Yes,” the woman replied suspiciously.

“Tell her Mickey is here to talk to her, and that he brought the kid,” Mickey said, already impatient with the way the woman spoke to him.

She raised her eyebrows at him, looked at Yevgeny curiously, and closed the door on them. Mickey cursed and raised his hand to knock again, but the door opened and revealed Yevgeny’s mom.

He was happy to see her, so happy in fact, that he forgot for the moment that he was worried, nervous and angry for multiple reasons. He ran to her and hugged her tightly. She knelt down and hugged him back. It had been a while since he last saw her. 

“Hello love,” she said to him in Russian. Those were a few of the words he actually spoke. “What are you doing here?” she let go of him as she said that, and the words were directed at Mickey. 

Mickey looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to actually be there. “Look, I gotta talk to you about something important. Can we come in?”

Yevgeny’s mom looked surprised, but she wordlessly stepped to the side to let him and Mickey in. Once inside, Mickey looked around, and once he saw that there was no one else around, he walked over to the sofa in the living room and took a seat. Yevgeny and his mom followed Mickey. Yevgeny sat next to Mickey, on the same sofa. His mother sat opposite the two of them, in a worn looking chair.

Mickey looked at her when she sat down, then away. He took a deep breath, and spoke.

“I need to get a divorce,” he said and Yevgeny’s mother gasped. Before she could speak though, Mickey went on. “I know, _I know_ , we had an agreement and I’m not trying to get out of it, if I really wanted to do that, I would have done it in the past five years,” he stopped there and looked at Yevgeny’s mother. “Svetlana, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to.”

Yevgeny’s mother didn’t hold Mickey’s gaze. She looked down as soon as he was done talking. Yevgeny tried to focus on the two of them instead of what they were saying because it confused him entirely too much. 

He was surprised when his mother laughed. “I knew one day he would take this away from me too.”

Mickey looked alarmed. “Listen—”

She cut him off. “No, I understand. Not his fault, whatever it is this time. Never _his_ fault,” she sighed. “When you took my child away from me, we made deal.”

Mickey ran a hand through his hair. “I know. It would break Ian’s heart, but we did have a deal.” When he looked at Yevgeny, Mickey looked tired. “How would you like to come and live with your mother?” 

Yevgeny didn’t understand. “But I don’t live with her,” he said, because it was true. He visited his mom, quite often. For almost all holidays, and for one whole month during summer break. “I live with you and Dad.”

Mickey actually looked upset as he put a hand on Yevgeny’s shoulder. “Not for long.” He looked at Yevgeny’s mother, then back at Yevgeny. “Don’t you like it here?”

Yevgeny considered that. He did like his mother’s house. He liked his mother’s friends, and the way they always seemed to want him around. 

“Yes,” he said finally. “But I like it better at home. I wanna stay with you and Dad.”

Mickey opened his mouth to talk, but was interrupted by a sigh and a muttered Russian curse, then, “Why do you want divorce now?”

Mickey looked down at his hands. He clenched and unclenched his fists, then turned to Yevgeny. “Why don’t you go and play?”

Yevgeny frowned at him. “No.”

“Yevgeny,” his mother said sternly, and Yevgeny dutifully stood up and went to his mother’s room. He left the door ajar though, and if his mother and Mickey noticed, they didn’t say anything.

“He never listens to me when I try to be strict with him,” Mickey was saying.

“This is because your boyfriend has spoiled him,” Yevgeny’s mother replied. “Now, tell me. What has happened?”

There was a pause in the conversation, and Yevgeny opened the door a bit to peek out at the living room. His mother was looking at Mickey with intensity, but there was softness in her gaze. Mickey’s head had dropped, his shoulders as well.

“Ian, he had a relapse,” Mickey said finally. “We don’t know what happened. The doctors have him on some shit or another and they say he’s stable. He probably grew tolerant to his medication a lot faster than any of us expected. I know he’s been taking them regularly because I watch him take it, so it’s not like he’s been skipping them. Anyways that’s not the point,” Mickey paused there and raised his head. “The point is, they wouldn’t let me see him because I’m not immediate family. I had to call Fiona to come and talk to the doctors.” Mickey stopped again, which was good, because Yevgeny’s head was swimming. His dad was in the hospital, maybe even unconscious for some reason, and no one had thought it appropriate to tell him. He felt angry, so angry, but even more, he felt scared. He felt like a child again, waking up from a nightmare and wanting nothing but his dad’s embrace. He sat down on the floor, next to the open door and forced himself to listen.

“Did he hurt himself?” His mother was asking Mickey.

“Not badly,” Mickey responded. “He called me from work when he didn’t feel good. I picked him up, took him home. I left him alone for just one minute and I came back and he was—” Mickey stopped there, his voice sounded like he was about to cry. And Mickey never cried. This was bad.

“It’s alright,” Yevgeny’s mother was saying. “So the divorce?”

“We divorce, I can marry Ian, and if this shit happens again,” Mickey stopped and took a breath, “no shithead doctor will keep me away from him.”

Yevgeny’s mother sighed. “If we divorce and you keep my Yevgeny,” she stopped as Mickey looked up at her. “We keep same deal, he visits regularly, I get check.”

“Yes,” Mickey was saying as he stood up. He sounded incredulous, even somewhat excited. “Of course, nothing will change, I promise you that.”

Yevgeny’s mother nodded. “You have papers with you now?”

“I do,” Mickey said and disappeared. Yevgeny took that chance to leave the room and join his mother in the living room again. His mother looked at him and smiled.

“You like orange boy a lot don’t you?” She asked, which was odd. She almost never wanted to talk about Yevgeny’s dad. 

Yevgeny nodded.

“Then I hope for your sake that he’s ok,” she said, just as Mickey returned with a folder. 

They remained with Svetlana for another hour, filling out divorce papers and setting up times to go and talk to a lawyer. They left as it was getting dark, and the car ride back to the Gallagher house was mostly silent.

“Mickey,” Yevgeny asked when they parked outside of the Gallagher house. “Why didn’t we go home?”

Mickey sighed and turned to look at him. “I just don’t think I can be at that house right now,” he said honestly, and the look in his eyes, his gaze, was full of vulnerability. “It’s better if we stay here until Dad gets back.”

Yevgeny nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me Dad was in the hospital?” he asked, choosing not to beat around the bush. No one had answered him for two days and he was sick of it.

Mickey looked back at him and swore. “You know, the point of you going away is that you don’t fucking eavesdrop.”

Yevgeny looked at his father angrily. “Dad’s in the hospital and no one bothered to tell me and you’re angry that I eavesdropped?”

Mickey ran a hand across his face and sighed. “I thought it would be better if I didn’t worry you.”

“I’m eight years old Mickey, not a child,” Yevgeny said, his voice shaking. “I have a right to know that my dad’s sick.”

“You’re still a child,” Mickey glared, but his face softened in a second. “It’s alright, he’ll be fine. I’ve talked to the doctors, ok?”

Yevgeny nodded. “Can I see him?”

“No!” Mickey said, a little too fast.

“Why not?”

“Because I fucking said so,” Mickey said, his voice taking a scary edge. “Now get out of the car.”

Yevgeny left the car, looking down at his shoes as he walked. Mickey grabbed his hand and squeezed as they went up the stairs to the house. Yevgeny looked at his father, and saw again how vulnerable he looked.

“I hope Dad gets better soon,” he said, despite his anger at being left out. It was true, no matter how everyone had treated him. For his father’s sake, for his aunts’ and uncles’, and for his own sake specially, he hoped that his dad would get better soon. 

“I hope so too,” Mickey said and dropped to his knees to hug Yevgeny tightly.

—

The thought, _Dad’s going to kill me_ , ran through Yevgeny’s head as he sat in the school office and kicked his chair’s legs. He wanted to run, rather than have his parents be angry at yet another stupid thing he had done. But he couldn’t run, that would make everything worse. At twelve years old, Yevgeny understood that there would be consequences to his actions. Running would only make his parents more angry. So he sat in the chair, with his head down, and waited for one of his parents to show up and collect him.

The wait became long, at least half an hour passed and there was still no sign of Dad or Mickey. Yevgeny had come to expect them promptly when he was in trouble. Dad especially, had the freedom to take an hour off work whenever Yevgeny managed to get himself in trouble, which, lately, was often. Still, Yevgeny, sitting nervously in the principal’s office, wondered what was taking his father so long.

Finally, after an hour of waiting and lip biting and general unpleasantness, Dad showed up. Yevgeny looked up at him, already nervous, but one look at him made Yevgeny’s stomach drop. He looked odd. His hair was slightly curling and he was wearing the same shirt he’d worn yesterday. His mouth was set in a firm line and he walked passed Yevgeny without even glancing at him. 

Yevgeny watched as Dad went up to the receptionist, put his arms on the counter and started tapping his fingers on it. The receptionist looked up, annoyed.

“Can I help you?” she asked. Somehow, none of the receptionists remembered parents’ names and faces. It was like they had made a rule: don’t recognize anyone that doesn’t work at the school.

“I’m here to pick up my son,” Dad said impatiently. His body seemed constantly in motion, his voice wavered when he spoke.

Yevgeny stood up and walked up to him. He wanted to hold his dad’s hand, but he understood that a twelve year old was entirely too old to be holding his father’s hand. Instead he stood there as the receptionist told Dad what Yevgeny had done this time. Dad just sighed, nodded at the appropriate times, and signed a form when the receptionist gave it to him.

When she was done, he turned and walked out of the office without talking to Yevgeny. Shocked, Yevgeny forced himself to walk after him, jogging a little to catch up. He didn’t understand what was happening. Usually dad would scold him as they walked. But today he was walking without even looking at Yevgeny.

He opened up the car door and turned on the car without talking to Yevgeny too. The car ride was completely silent. A few times, Yev opened his mouth to say something, but one look at dad’s drawn face stopped him in his tracks. 

The elevator ride up to the third floor was even worse. Yevgeny had very little to look at, and even though it was only a few minutes, his dad kept bouncing on the balls of his feet and not talking to Yev.

They walked down the hall to their door. Dad held it open for Yevgeny and closed it behind him after they were both inside. 

They stood there, the two of them, awkwardly. His dad finally sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He threw the keys on the kitchen counter, and finally spoke. 

“I’m very unhappy with what you’ve done,” he said, though his gaze was pointed at the windows. “And there will be consequences.”

Yevgeny looked at him, at his hair and clothes, and had the urge to give him a hug.

“But,” he went on, pausing for a minute, then continuing as if he’d never stopped. “I can’t right now. I’m going to go to my room. You’re not allowed to leave the house. Just, do your homework until Mickey gets back,” he finished and just, left. He walked to his room, closed the door and locked it.

Yevgeny was left in the living room wondering what the hell had just happened. He watched the door for a few minutes, but his dad did not reappear. He huffed, assessing his situation. Dad was acting completely weird, totally out of character. But he was in his room now and he was probably not going to come out any time soon. 

Yevgeny shrugged, dropped his backpack to the ground, and planted himself in front of the TV. Homework be damned.

He was still in front of the TV when Mickey got home. He turned his head and watched as his father walked in, took off his shoes and dropped his keys on the kitchen counter, right next to where Ian had dropped his keys. He looked around after that, his eyes landing on Yevgeny for a minute, then roaming the living room.“Where’s Ian?” was what he finally asked.

Yevgeny shrugged. “In his room.”

Mickey scratched his neck and came to sit next to Yevgeny on the couch. 

“He pick you up from school?” He asked, taking the remote from Yevgeny and changing the channel.

Yevgeny weighed his options for the second time that day. He could tell Mickey the truth—that he’d gotten in trouble, that dad had come to pick him up, that dad hadn’t really talked to him, that he had locked himself in his bedroom since they had gotten back—or he could lie, tell Mickey that yea, dad had picked him up from school.

Ultimately though, lying would get him nowhere. Dad might be acting weird but he’d still tell Mickey what had happened sooner or later. Better to get the shitty things over with.

“I got in trouble for hitting that asshole Jacob today,” Yevgeny said, his eyes trained on the TV.

From his peripheral vision, he saw Mickey rub his hands over his face.

“Jesus Christ, Yev,” he said turning off the TV. “Why?”

Yevgeny shrugged. “Dude was being an ass.”

“Hey stop swearing, you’re entirely too young,” Mickey said. 

Yevgeny looked at him then, eyebrows raised. Who did Mickey think he was fooling? 

“So Ian picked you up?” Mickey said after a moment. Because even he knew how ridiculous it was to ask Yevgeny not to swear.

“Yea,” Yev answered. “He was an hour late though, and he looked all,” Yevgeny stopped and gestured at his own hair and body. “Messy,” he finished.

A look of alarm crossed Mickey’s face. “Messy?”

“Yea. And also, he didn’t talk to me on the way home,” Yev went on. “And he locked himself in the bedroom after we got home and I haven’t seen him since.”

Mickey looked really alarmed. Before, Yevgeny saw him get slightly tense, but now, fear was written all over his face.

“Everything alright?” Yevgeny asked as Mickey stood up suddenly. “Dad doing ok?” Suddenly, Yev thought of that one week a few years ago, when Dad had been gone for an entire week and no one would let Yevgeny see him.

Mickey rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. He dropped them after a moment and looked at the bedroom door. “God, I hope so,” he said to Yevgeny, then walked to the door. 

Yevgeny sat up on the couch to watch him. Mickey knocked on the door softly.

“Ian?” he said quietly. 

When there was no answer, Mickey knocked again.

“Ian you know you gotta let me in,” he said to the door. 

Yev watched in confusion and alarm as nothing happened for several minutes. Then, the handle turned quietly and the door opened perhaps an inch or two.

Mickey turned towards him. “Stay here,” he said and turned back to the door. He opened it slightly, then more, and finally enough to slip inside. 

The door closed behind Mickey with finality and Yevgeny was left alone in the living room, confused and nervous and really fucking scared.

Slowly, and as quietly as he possibly could, he walked towards the door. When he reached it, he slowly sank to his knees. He could hear muffled, unintelligible noises, so he slowly brought his head to the door, tilting it so his ear was plastered against it.

If he focused really hard, he could make out what his parents were saying.

“You gonna tell me what happened today then?” was the first thing Yevgeny made out clearly,. Mickey always talked louder than dad.

Then nothing, until he heard a loud sigh.

“Ian please, just,” silence again. “Talk to me.”

Then muffled noises, but it was dad’s voice. Dad was talking so quietly that no matter how hard Yevgeny focused, he couldn’t hear him.

“It’s alright,” he finally heard Mickey say. “They won’t care that you took a personal day, no one will care.” Mickey sounded so soothing, like he did when Yevgeny was sick or hurt. All it served was to make Yev more scared.

More muffled noises from dad.

“You see? You called. It will be fine. It’ll be ok.”

Quiet again. Yevgeny felt jittery, he wanted to move, but he didn’t, for fear of making a noise.

“—not your fault,” he heard when he focused his attention again. “Yea I know you’re taking them.”

Nothing again. Then, “Alright, ok, go to sleep ok? I’ll call and make an appointment.”

Yevgeny heard shuffling and ran for the couch. He had barely reached it when the door to his parents’ bedroom opened and Mickey came out. 

Yevgeny didn’t look at him until he heard Mickey snort. He looked over to see his father with his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“What?” Yevgeny asked, feigning innocence.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yea ok, I’ll believe you weren’t eavesdropping,” he said. He then reached into his pocket and took out his cellphone. “I’m gonna go to your room and make a call ok?”

Yev nodded, and Mickey went away. He was gone for about fifteen minutes, and this time, Yevgeny did not eavesdrop.

When Mickey came out though, he was holding a duffle bag in one hand, and his phone in the other.

“Good news, Yev,” Mickey said cheerfully, or well, he was trying to sound cheerful anyways. Yevgeny knew he wasn’t actually happy. “Fiona’s agreed to let you sleep over at her house tonight.”

Yevgeny remembered the week without his dad again. He was suddenly afraid. Really afraid. Some of that fear must have shown in his face because Mickey came over and squeezed his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, stroking Yevgeny’s cheek. “You ok there?”

Yevgeny threw himself in Mickey’s arms, squeezing his father tightly.

“Is Dad going to the hospital again?” he asked after a minute, disentangling himself from Mickey.

Mickey opened his mouth to respond but he was stopped by the sound of a door. They both looked over to see his dad standing in the doorway, one hand gripping the doorframe, wearing the same clothes he had worn earlier and looking much more disheveled. 

“Why is Fiona coming here?” He asked. His toneless voice sent shivers down Yevgeny’s spine.

Yevgeny looked over at Mickey, his father looked lost for words. 

“I thought,” he began, slowly standing up, “that Yev could stay with Fiona until tomorrow night.”

Dad furrowed his brows. “He doesn’t need to do that.”

Mickey walked towards him, reaching out for him when he was close enough.

Dad flinched away though. “Why are you sending him away? I’m fine. It’s fine. I’ve been doing fine.”

Mickey ran a hand across his face, though he didn’t try to reach for dad again. “Ian, you know why. The same reason you locked yourself in the bedroom.”

Dad looked at Mickey sharply. “I’m fine to be around my own child.”

Yevgeny wasn't so sure that he agreed at the moment. Dad looked different, somehow worse than he’d been earlier in the day, and for Yevgeny seeing his usually cheerful father in such a state was perhaps the worst thing.

His parents, in the meantime, were having a staring contest. One that Mickey finally won when his dad looked away. 

“You know I’m right,” Mickey said, and this time, when he reached out for dad, dad didn’t flinch away.

“I know you’re right,” dad repeated, sounding tired.

“Good, now get back to bed,” Mickey said and reached with a hand to stroke Dad’s cheek. Normally Yevgeny would make a disgusted face, but this time, he was too dazed to complain.

As dad turned around though, a thought crossed Yevgeny’s mind again.

“Wait, Dad,” he said and both parents turned to look at him. “Are you going to the hospital?”

Somehow, despite whatever hell dad was going through, he managed to smile at Yev. “Don’t think so,” he said, but he looked at Mickey for confirmation.

Mickey shook his head at dad, not at Yevgeny. “No hospital,” he said with finality. Then dad disappeared into his own room and Mickey was throwing the duffle bag at Yevgeny.

“Look in that and tell me if it’s missing anything,” he said.

Yevgeny did, but Mickey had packed everything he would need, so there really was no need to double check.

“What’s wrong with Dad?” he asked Mickey while they waited for Aunt Fiona to come and pick him up.

Mickey sighed. “We’ll let him tell you himself,” was the only answer he gave. No matter how much Yevgeny hassled him, told him he had a right to know, Mickey didn’t budge.

—

Yevgeny ended up staying at his aunt’s house for two nights, not just one, and by the third night, he was ready to cause an uproar. He would probably have complained all night, that was what he was in the middle of when his parents showed up. Both of them. Not just Mickey. Yevgeny was so happy to see his dad’s face, he jumped and ran to hug him, as tight as he possibly could. Screw people saying he was too old for hugs from his parents.

Dad hugged him back tightly. He seemed like he wanted to hug Yevgeny just as badly as Yev wanted to hug him. Which he should want, since he was a parent and all.

“Let’s go home,” Yevgeny said when dad finally let go of him. “I’m so tired of sharing a room with Liam.”

Dad and Mickey both laughed.

“Perks of being an only child,” Aunt Fiona said as she walked over to give dad a hug. “You don’t have to share a room with anyone. How you feeling Ian?”

Dad shrugged. “Pretty ok, gotta give the meds time to prove themselves. But I’m much better.”

Fiona touched dad’s cheek, like he was a child. “Good,” she said and hugged him again. Then she turned to Yevgeny. “This one has been an absolute monster,” she said, ruffling Yevgeny’s hair. “Please just, take him away from me.”

“Thanks for looking after him,” Mickey said to Fiona. Then he turned to Yevgeny. “Go get your shit, brat.”

Yevgeny was ready to leave in five minutes. He thanked Aunt Fiona as they left. Once by the car, he forced dad to sit next to him, in the back seat. Dad laughed, and Mickey grumbled but didn’t stop him from sitting in the back seat. Yevgeny held on to his dad all the way home.

Once inside the apartment, he turned to his parents. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he began. 

Mickey snorted. “Always a bad idea.”

Yevgeny rolled his eyes. “This is the second time this has happened. Where dad is not feeling good and no one tells me _anything._ ” Both dad and Mickey became tense at that. “I think it’s time someone told me what the hell is going on or I’m gonna die of anxiety.”

Dad sighed, suddenly looking tired, and much older than his twenty nine years. Next to him, Mickey chose to drop his keys on the counter and walk to the fridge to get a drink.

“Please, Dad,” Yevgeny said, walking towards his dad and taking his hands. “I don’t like not knowing what’s wrong.”

Dad looked at Mickey, who shrugged. Then he looked at Yevgeny. Yevgeny pulled on his hands, and looked up at him with pleading eyes. He seemed to make a decision then. He let go of Yev’s hands and started walking towards the couch, gesturing for Yevgeny to follow him.

When they were both sitting down on the couch, he looked back at Mickey. Mickey set his drink down on the counter and joined them in the living room.

“You asked and I think maybe, it’s time I tell you,” Dad began, and taking a deep breath, he went on. “I have something called bipolar disorder.”

“You have what?” Yevgeny asked.

His dad sighed, running a hand through his head. After a moment of silence, he looked at Mickey pleadingly. “I don’t know if I can this by myself.”

Mickey walked over and sat down next to Dad. He took Dad’s hand gently, but looked over at Yevgeny.

“It’s a mental disorder,” Mickey said, and Dad sighed.

“Like depression?” Yevgeny asked, trying to make sense of the situation. 

“Yes,” his dad answered, picking up where Mickey had left off. “Like depression.”

From then on, he went to explain to Yevgeny exactly how Bipolar disorder worked. Yevgeny felt confused, scared even, as his dad and Mickey took turns to explain the challenges a person with such a disorder felt.

As understanding dawned on Yevgeny, he felt his world shifting again. For so long his parents, especially his dad, had been his safe place. His dad was the person he ran to when he was scared, when he was confused, when he needed help. Now he was learning that his dad was completely different than the one Yevgeny had thought him to be. Apparently, his dad needed to be comforted regularly too.

Yevgeny watched his dad carefully, trying to grasp the situation, the kind of person his dad was. His voice was the same. He had the same smile, the same way of speaking. In the end, this new piece of information changed nothing about who his dad really was. So he had to live with a mental disorder, Yevgeny knew lots of people who were not necessarily normal.

When he told his dad this, Dad looked like he might start to cry. Next to him, Mickey laughed in relief. 

“You’re one hell of a kid,” Mickey said, standing up to pat Yevgeny on the head. “You ok?” he asked Yevgeny’s dad seriously.

Dad nodded mutely and turned to Yevgeny. He opened his arms slowly and Yevgeny wasted no time rushing to hug him. He squeezed his dad tightly, closing his eyes and letting himself feel the safety he always felt when he hugged his dad.

“I love you lots, you know that right?” he said into his dad’s chest.

“I love you too,” his dad replied quietly, squeezing him back and kissing his head.

—

That night, for the first time in years, Yevgeny slept in his parents’ bed.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://nana-gallagher.tumblr.com) about shameless. Seriously, I need to be constantly talking about Shameless.


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